All I Want For Christmas
by Ryous lil Tenshi
Summary: A Christmas fic! Fluffy BakuraRyou AUness. Not much else to say. Read it! Now it's a two parter! But definitely complete... I think o.o
1. Christmas

Look! An Xmas fic! Poste on time, too Hehehe.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

It was _freezing_.

Ryou's breath clouded in a mist as he exhaled, his chapped lips quivering as he shivered. The cold atmosphere chilled Ryou to the bone, and the occasional gust of freezing wind only heightened the sensation of being drowned in ice. His fingers moved slowly across the fret board, his right thumb strumming the strings carefully. He couldn't afford to break a string then. He'd only made ten dollars today, meaning he couldn't sleep in a hotel tonight. Breaking a string meant Ryou couldn't eat.

He'd gone without food for two days already.

At least he had some shelter from the thickening snow. An overhang of the building prevented the ice crystals sprinkling onto his coat. Ryou continued to gently strum his guitar, sitting cross-legged on the ground. The guitar case was open at his feet which was dotted with coins and a couple of notes. Countless people rushed past the freezing teenager, their arms weighed down with countless bags containing last-minute Christmas gifts.

It was December the twenty-fourth.

Ryou closed his mocha eyes, his teeth chattering. _I can't keep this is up for much longer. I should head off to the subway tunnel before it gets too crowded_… Tears pushed at the corners of his eyes, but the teenager blinked them away. He wasn't going to feet sorry for himself. Self-pity got him nowhere. There was a lump in his throat, and he swallowed it back closing his eyes. He used to sing to the guitar, but ever since his accident…

Ryou sneezed.

Two days ago, he'd gotten a nasty tickle in the back of his throat, which had now progressed into a full blown cold. Ryou suppressed a sneeze, wrinkling his nose. _Oh God... This isn't good_. He let out a long sigh, and stopped playing the battered, guitar, resting it on his crossed knees.

He didn't notice the tall white-haired figure watching him from across the street.

Ryou leaned forward, and scooped up the handful of money in the bottom of his guitar case. The coins were cold in his hands, and he winced, but Ryou counted up the money with his eyes, and sighed. _Eleven fifty. At least I can buy some hot food with it._ The teenager hid the money in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, before replacing the battered guitar inside its case. Ryou rubbed his exposed hands together, his teeth chattering further. He sat in the overhang for a moment, crouched on the frozen concrete, staring at the ground, before he grabbed his tattered satchel, which contained his only possessions, and placed it over his left shoulder. Ryou seized the guitar case, his free hand rubbing at his forehead, which was flushed, and sweating. His head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton. _Oh_…_ This feels terrible_…

The white-haired man across the road looked up from his newspaper, and smiled, before standing up.

Ryou was jostled the moment he stepped into the heavy flow of human traffic. The whitenette winced, stumbling slightly. The flow of rushed, hurried people, eager to get out of the snow and into their safe, warm houses, was too much for Ryou. As soon as he could, the boy fled to the safe haven of a bench, between the sidewalk and the road. He placed the guitar on the concrete beside him, and curled into a ball. Oh, his head hurt… Everywhere ached, and his limbs felt as though they were made of straw. Ryou rested his head on his knees, his coat slowly gathering more and more snow. He felt so sleepy…

"Hey." Ryou froze in his curled position, every muscle in his body going rigid. _Who is that_… "Kid! You still alive?" Eventually, Ryou dared to lift his head from the safe cradle of his knees. He stared down at a pair of shoes, worn black leather boots, and swallowed. Slowly, his chocolate coloured eyes traveled up a pair of black jeans, half-hidden by an open charcoal trench coat. Ryou gulped, staring at the fraying black sweater under the coat, which was sprinkled in tiny flakes of snow. Ryou's eyes widened when he stared at the man full in the face.

Ryou opened his mouth to say something, but then closed his again, his teeth chattering. His thin, worn coat did almost nothing to keep his almost skeletal frame warm, and he couldn't stop shaking. The man smiled softly, and leaned in to stare into Ryou's eyes. The teenager blinked, and then looked down, his breath fogging in front of him as he shivered. The man sighed, before crouching slightly on his knees. Ryou sniffed, and rubbed at his blocked nose, before lifting his head slightly. He started when he saw the man crouched in front of him.

"You're freezing." He remarked, biting on his lower lip. "And you're sick." Ryou only swallowed, wincing at the movement. He closed his eyes, turning his head away. People always made him uncomfortable, and this scruffy stranger with hair so like his was no different. "Hey, what's wrong?" Ryou parted his lips, raising his eyes to look at this man, but didn't know what to say. _Everything's wrong... This place is wrong, my life is wrong, I'm wrong_… "Come on, kid. I don't bite." Ryou licked his lip, keeping his eyes firmly downcast. "Here." The man reached into his pocket. Ryou blinked, and raised his eyes once more to look at the strange white-haired man.

Twenty dollars was held between his finger and thumb! Ryou's mouth fell open, and his eyes lit up. The man chuckled under his breath, and smiled despite himself. Ryou extended a slim, pale hand, and reached for the note. Before he could grab the twenty dollar bill, the man jerked his hand, raising an eyebrow.

"Now, now." He teased. "You have to earn it. Do you think I give out twenty bucks every day?" Ryou visibly deflated, lowering his eyes. "You have to earn it." Ryou blinked, and reached down for his guitar. "Hey. I didn't say you could play your guitar."

_Oh no_. Ryou froze, and started to scoot sideways on the bench, away from the man. _No! I don't do that! I don't sleep with people for money. I-I'll never do that_… He sighed, and shook his head, chuckling softly.

"No, no. Not like that, silly. I wouldn't sleep with you for money." The man smiled, shaking his head. "I just want…" He leaned in closer to Ryou, so their noses almost touched. Ryou blinked, but it turned into a soundless yelp as the man kissed him. Ryou was immobile for a long moment, frozen as the man continued to kiss him, his lips oddly soothing and massaging. He had never been kissed before, and this seemed so… different. It was nice… Gently, Ryou's eyes fluttered shut, and he relaxed, allowing himself to enjoy the kiss. The man smiled, and opened his mouth, softly running his tongue along Ryou's lower lip. By this stage, Ryou was really getting into the kiss, so he followed suit, parting his own lips, and allowing the man to deepen the kiss dramatically. Ryou's hands loosely grasped his forearms, and then slowly slid along the material as the man tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss even further. He disentangled his arms from Ryou's grasp for a moment, and grabbed his hands, their fingers entwining. Ryou, who was starting to feel faint from the lack of oxygen, started to pull away.

Both were breathing deeply as they broke apart, the man still holding Ryou's hands. Ryou bowed his head for a moment, flushing furiously. Did that man know he'd just taken Ryou's first kiss? He swallowed deeply, biting his lip. The man only smiled, and stood up. He released his hold on Ryou's hands, and turned to leave. Ryou was still in a state of semi-shock as he opened his palm, looking at the twenty dollar bill tucked in folds of soft skin. His eyes darted up to the man, who was leaving, and his heart raced in panic.

"I'll see you around." He muttered, placing his hands in his pockets. "Best twenty bucks I've ever sent." If Ryou had a voice, he would scream out what he wanted to say. Instead, he hurriedly stood up, and as the man started to walk off, latched onto the sleeve of his jacket. "What-" He froze, and spun around, jumping slightly at the sight of the teenager who clung to him. "What?" He frowned. "I gave you your money, now get going. I've got to scrape together enough to pay my power bill now." Ryou frantically shook his head, chocolate eyes wide and imploring. "What the hell is it? Someone rip your throat out? Why don't you talk?" Ryou looked down for a moment, before releasing one of his hands from the man's jacket. He arched his neck slightly, and stroked his throat, emphasizing the long white scar that almost blended into his white skin. The man froze, and his mouth fell open. "Shit. Someone slit your throat?" Ryou nodded, tears glittering in his eyes. "Fuck… So? There's nothing I can do about it." He muttered. Ryou shook his head, and tightened his hold on the mans' jacket. He buried his nose into the black fabric, trembling. "What… What do you want, kid? I gave you the last of my money so you can eat, I've got nothing else to give."

Ryou felt like screaming. Oh, it was so _frustrating!_ He shook his head, and continued to tug on the man's jacket, while he tried to think of a way to tell this man what he wanted to say, how he didn't want to leave, how Ryou wanted to go with him...

"You… Want my jacket?" He frowned. "No way, kid! It's freezing and I don't have one. I know you must be cold, but there's nothing I can do." Ryou silently groaned, and shook his head. He pointed clearly to Bakura, and then to himself. "You… Me… What is it kid? Don't you have a pen in that bag?" Ryou froze, and felt like smacking himself. _Duh._ Regretfully, the whitenette let go of the mans jacket, and started rifling through his satchel. He finally found an old biro and a dog eared notepad. Hurriedly, Ryou wrote down three words, the pad pressed against an upraised knee, before turning the pad up so the man could read it.

"Don't leave me." The man recited, furrowing his brow in confusion. "What… Oh." He sighed, starting at the desperate, hopeful look on the white-haired angel's face. "Kid… I would love to take you with me, but I can barely look after myself. I can't afford to feed another mouth…" Ryou visibly deflated, slumping his shoulders and bowing his head. Tears formed in his eyes, but he pushed them away, sniffing. _Why did I think this person would be any different?_ The man sighed at the sight of the crestfallen boy, who looked close to tears. "Kid… You have to have family… Or friends… Or something…" Ryou shook his head, a curtain of white hair falling over his face. "No one?" Ryou shook his head again, sniffing. The man closed his eyes, and bit his lip. His conscience was really kicking in right then. _You can't leave him here. Look at him. He's sick and freezing. He'd die out here if he was by himself._ The man winced. It was a very real possibility, a poorly dressed, skeletal, sick teenager, cold and alone out in this freezing weather.

"Okay." He sighed, raising his eyes to the stormy skies. "You can come back with me." Ryou's head snapped up, and every trace of misery fled from his face. The notepad and pen clattered to the ground as he ran and flung his arms tightly around the man's waist. "Woah! Hey, hey… I didn't realize it was that big a deal…" Ryou nodded, relishing in the warmth of the male he held close to him. "Okay." The man sighed, before disentangling himself from Ryou. He picked up the notepad and pen, and handed them to Ryou, before picking up the battered guitar case, hefting it in his left hand.

"Come on then." He muttered, extending one arm. He expected the whitenette to take his hand, not press himself against him, one hand around the small of his back. The man blinked, and looked down at the teenager who dared to hold him close. He sighed, momentarily closing his eyes. Ryou buried his head in the mans' shoulder, suppressing a sneeze.

"Do you have a name?" The man asked, shifting the guitar case in his left hand. Ryou nodded, and dug through the satchel in his side. He extracted the worn notepad, and turned it over. 'Ryou' had been written in the back of the pad in dark blue writing. "Ryou, huh?" The whitenette nodded, rubbing at his red nose. The man felt his heartstrings twang in pity for the small teenager, and slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around Ryou's shoulders. "That's a nice name." Ryou smiled, staring at the snow-sprinkled ground as they started to walk. Ryou looked up at the man with those large brown eyes. He pointed to him, and tilted his head questioningly. "My name?" He nodded softly. "It's Bakura." Ryou smiled, and Bakura tightened his hold on the skinny teen.

"It's okay, Ryou. I'll look after you until you can get on your feet."

* * *

"Welcome to my humble abode." Bakura chuckled as he turned the key in the lock. The door was stuck, and he had to lean against the wooden paneling to open it. "It's not much," He sighed, holding the door open for Ryou as he entered the apartment. "But it's home."

_Wow._ Ryou's mouth dropped as he stared around the apartment, his eyes wide. True, it wasn't much, a one-room studio, with a kitchenette in a corner, a battered car table with two mismatching chairs in another, and a single black bucket seat in front of the TV, the leather torn and cracked. The floors were wooden, but a large, colourful rug hid most of the floor in the middle of the apartment, and the walls were brick.

"Okay." Bakura smiled softly as he set the guitar case down. "Let me give you the grand tour." He loosely wrapped an arm around Ryou's shoulders as they stood in the doorway. "This," He indicated to the corner closest to the door. "Is the kitchen," Ryou smiled. "This here," He turned Ryou to face the other side. "Is my dining room." Ryou nodded, unsure if Bakura was being sarcastic or serious. "Over here is one of two rather _magnificent_ features," He pointed to the large old fireplace, the marble mantelpiece littered with photographs. "It doesn't work." He explained to Ryou, who wore a puzzled expression. "They cut out the chimney years ago, and bunged a gas heater in it. It's still nice though." Ryou nodded. "It's an important feature of my living room." The whitenette eyed the old-fashioned TV and single chair. "And my bedroom." Bakura directed Ryou's gaze to the double bed in the corner, a battered beside table and a three-legged set of draws next to it, the fourth propped up by a wooden crate. "And the bathroom is in there." He grabbed Ryou's wrist and led him to a rather warped door. He turned the knob, and the door swung open, exposing the cramped, dark bathroom. "It's three-in-one. You can use the toilet, but your feet in the shower, and brush your teeth all at the same time." Ryou laughed silently. He burrowed in his satchel, withdrawing his pad and pen.

'I like it.' He wrote on the paper, holding it up to Bakura. 'Are you being serious or sarcastic?' The man sighed, and walked over to the edge of his bed. He let go of Ryou's hand, and sat down, clutching the duvet.

"What do you think?" He murmured, looking down at the stained floorboards. "It's a dump. The house is crap and the furniture is worse." Ryou sighed, and sat down beside him, writing on the pad again.

'It's really nice.' He wrote, his words neat and narrow, trying to save as much paper as he could. 'I really really like it. It's so cosy.' Bakura sighed, and rolled his eyes.

"You're _homeless_." Bakura moaned, running a hand through his wild locks. "A cardboard box would look good to you." Ryou looked down, hurt. "Sorry." He apologized. "I shouldn't have said that…"

'It's okay.' Ryou tried to write as fast as he could. 'I'm just so happy you're letting me stay. I don't think I could face Christmas alone.' Bakura sighed, and snaked a hand around Ryou's shoulders.

"It's okay." He murmured softly. "My conscience wouldn't let me leave you in the snow like that." Bakura gently started to lower his hand, his fingertips stroking Ryou's back. The teenager sighed, and leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. "You hungry?" He looked down at the exhausted Ryou, who nodded weakly. "When was the last time you ate?" Ryou's fingers shook as he scrawled on the page.

'Um, two days, I think.' His eyes half-closed. 'I'm really tired…' Bakura's mouth fell open, and his insides burned with pity for the teenager pressed against him. He started to rub small circles in Ryou's lower back, biting his lip.

"Tell you what." Bakura muttered. "I'm going to cook something up for you, while you have a nice hot shower." His nose wrinkled slightly. Despite Ryou's best efforts, he wasn't exactly clean or sweet-smelling. "And then you can stuff your face, and have a nice long sleep. Does that sound okay?" Bakura asked softly, his lips in Ryou's dirty hair.

'Sounds like heaven.' Ryou wrote, half-asleep on Bakura's shoulder. The man smiled, and stood up. Ryou set the pad down on the bed, and was pulled into a standing position. He leaned against Bakura for a sec, sniffing. The man sighed, leading Ryyou into the bathroom.

"The bathrobe's handing on the door," He explained, starting the shower. "Just bung that on once you get out, and I'll sort out some pajamas." Ryou nodded, and Bakura sighed once he closed the door, leaning against it. "How the hell did this happen?" He muttered to himself, closing his eyes. "How am I going to _feed_ him?" He had enough food to last until January, but beyond then, Bakura had no idea what he was going to do. "I suppose I could pick up some extra shifts… But I'm already working long hours…" Bakura sighed, walking across the room, and to the kitchenette. "Depends on how long the kids' staying." He sighed to himself, opening the pantry. Tins of food and colourful packets looked back at him (He had won the yearly Christmas food hamper at his work). "I'm not letting him leave if he's got nowhere to go." Bakura turned around, looking at the closed door. "I'll make it work out." He sighed, extracting a packet of pasta. Bakura had started talking to himself a long time ago, when the absolute silence of the apartment constantly bugged him. With a long sigh, the man turned on the oven, and started rootling around for pots and pans.

Ryou was still as he let the flow of hot water pour down his skin. He was to embarrassed to look at the liquid as it gurgled down the drain, tinted a dark grey from his dirt and grime. The teenager chose instead to stare at the pale, slightly pink skin, fresh and clean. He felt as though he had washed away the pain and the heartbreak of living on the streets. This was all new. It was going to be all better. This Christmas was going to be great, simple because he wasn't going to be alone. He didn't expect that it was going to be presents and decorations and food, like in the movies -Reality was a much harsher story- But he wasn't going to be alone anymore. And that was all that mattered.

There was a wide grin on the teenager's face as he stepped out of the shower. He dried himself with the threadbare towel before donning the dressing gown and tentatively opening the door.

"Hey." Bakura smiled softly, setting the pasta down on the rickety card table. "I was wondering where you got to." Ryou grinned, before sitting down at the table, his chocolate eyes wide at the plate of food in front of him. His fork trembled as he scooped up the first amount of food, and Bakura sank into his chair as he watched Ryou pack food into his mouth as fast as he could. The man's mouth fell open as Ryou wolfed down the meal, and he swallowed deeply. _He wasn't kidding when he said he hadn't eaten in days... _Bakura stared at the teenager, marveling at how _clean_ he looked. His skin was the colour of ivory under that layer of dirt and soot, and his hair, a damp tangle trailing haphazardly around his shoulders, and down his back, was positively shining.

"Oh!" Bakura stood up, his crimson eyes wide. "Ryou, I never showed you…" Ryou paused in his gorging, and looked up at the man. "My second magnificent feature…" Bakura's worn leather boots clunked over the old boards as he headed towards the thick navy curtains at the end. "It's the whole reason why I got this place." Bakura explained as he started to pull at an old tassel. Ryou shoveled another forkful of food in his mouth, staring at Bakura as he parted the curtains.

_Oh wow._ Ryou breathed, the fork clattering to the table. _That's amazing_! It was a large window, taking up almost a whole wall of the small apartment. Bakura lived on the twelfth floor, and the city was built on a gentle slope. Ryou stood up, and walked over to the large window. The city was bathed in twilight, and the amber and light yellow glittered like gems in the dusky sky.

"You like it?" Bakura smiled, looking down at the city, slowly sinking into darkness. Ryou pressed a palm against the cold glass, watching the pane fog around his hand. He nodded, smiling widely. Secretly, Ryou thought he'd never seen something so amazing in his life. "Ryou…" Bakura looked away from the scenery to stare at Ryou, dressed in the bathrobe. "Have you _ever_ left this city?" The teenager blinked, and finally tore his eyes away from the beautiful lights of the city. Ryou turned to face Bakura, staring down and fingering the sleeves of the bathrobe, which was too large for him. He slowly shook his head, chewing on his lip. Bakura opened his mouth to say something, and froze. His eyes lingered on base of Ryou's throat, particularly his collarbone. _It's not natural for it to stick out like that_… Bakura gulped, feeling sick when he realized that in the 'v' of Ryou's chest, exposed by the bathrobe, wasn't the muscles of his chest, like they were supposed to be, but skin and bone. Literally. Ryou closed his eyes as Bakura gently reached out and stroked the skin. The man felt like shuddering as he stroked the ridges of Ryou's ribs, and the teenager gasped, and turned away, pulling up the robe to cover as much skin as he could.

"Ryou." Bakura muttered softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. The whitenette sniffed, rubbing at his rubbing nose. "Ryou, I'm sorry." He murmured. "But… It can't be like that all over Ryou… You have to have some meat on your bones somewhere…" Ryou silently stepped away from the male, fiddling with the cord on the dressing gown. "Christ, it's like a you're a bloody… Ano…Rex…Ic.." Bakura froze as Ryou slid the towelette dressing gown down too-thin shoulders. Ryou stood, his head slightly bowed, and the gown around his hips. A hand flew to Bakura's mouth as he stared at Ryou's back. It really looked like skin stretched over a skeleton. He could easily count every rib as it protruded from Ryou's back, and his spine stuck out like the edge of a knife.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, stricken. Ryou continued to stare at the floor, tears threatening to slide down his cheeks. Bakura loosely grasped one shoulder, before trailing his hand down silky skin, smooth but for the protruding angles of his bones. "Turn around." Bakura asked, reluctantly sliding his hand from Ryou's skin. The teenager paused for a very long moment, but eventually, he turned around, making sure that the robe was still at least around his wait. Bakura's breath caught in his throat as he stared at a fresh set of those ribs, giving way to a concave stomach. "Why can't you eat, Ryou?" Bakura asked softly, taking a step over to him and cupping a smooth, rounded jawbone. Ryou looked down, and sniffed. "Can't you afford it or something?" He nodded weakly, and couldn't stop the tears as they dripped from his eyes. Bakura sighed, wrapping his arms around Ryou in a soft embrace.

"Hey…" Bakura sighed, gently rocking the boy as he cried, inwardly shuddering as his hands came into contact with those exposed bones. "It's okay, Ryou. I'm going to feed you lots and lots, and you're going to put on so much weight…" Bakura poked Ryou's side. "You're going to get really really fat, I promise." Ryou sniffed, and lifted his head. He stared up into Bakura's crimson eyes, his chin trembling. "Okay?" Ryou nodded weakly, before flinging his head in Bakura's neck. The man sighed as he listened to Ryou cry, his odd, silent gasps of air and sobs. "You can stay here for as long as have to. No one should be alone on Christmas…." Ryou sniffed, shivering in the cold air.

"Come on, Ryou. Let's get you into bed."

* * *

Bakura sighed, rolling over onto his side. It was very late, but the white-haired man couldn't sleep. His crimson eyes drifted from the window, down to Ryou. The teenager slept on the side of the bed next to the large window, and had fallen asleep watching the city below him. Bakura smiled, very faintly, as he brushed a lock of hair out of Ryou's eyes. He looked like an angel tucked under the sheets. An angel in a worn, baggy Metallica shirt. Gently, Bakura held Ryou close to him, resting his head on the pillow beside Ryou. His nose was full of soft, silky hair, and, although the covers on the bed were worn and thin, he was warm. Especially where he was pressed against Ryou.

This was screwed up. Bakura was the first to admit it. How can someone as beautiful and innocent as Ryou be on the streets? Sure, not being able to talk closed a lot of doors to employment, but there must have been something he could do…

But there were a lot of people on the streets. Bakura was the first to admit that. Sure, he'd only been homeless for a month, but he was amazed at how horrible that short month was. And also how _many_ people lived on the streets. _Something has to be done about it. What kind of government lets this happen? It's not like most homeless people want to be homeless. They don't. Give them the chance to live in their own place, and they would jump._

_Don't worry, Ryou. I know you only met me today, but I've been watching you for weeks. I saw you sit at the building for five freezing hours one day, and then give all of your money away to a kid and her baby. You're far too soft to live on the streets, and I promise, you're not going to. Tomorrow is going to be great. I don't have any presents to give, but I have lots and lots of food. I'm going to stuff you so you can't move. Malik and Marik are coming over, too. You'll like Malik, I know. I promise that you're going to have the best Christmas you've ever had._

Bakura leaned down, gently placing a quick peck on his lips.

_I promise you, Ryou._

* * *

Awwh. Fluffy ending! Hehehe 

EVERYONE HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! -glompsall-

R&R!


	2. Valentines

Oooh, shiny. XD It's a little belated I know, but it wasn't until like, the thirteenth, when I realised that I needed a Valentines Day fic. I was like OH SHIT O.O; So... coming up with a plot, and writing it in two days aint bad I guess. Hehehehehe

And the reason I put this one in here, as opposed to Shards, was because this one is in the same universe thingy... If you didn't guess already o.o;

Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING I SAY!

* * *

"Hey Ryou."

The whitenette looked up from his journal, and smiled. Bakura used his teeth to pull off his left glove, and then his right. He removed his hat, and placed the sodden items on the card table the white-haired pair to dine on. Bakura's teeth chattered as he yanked off his worn black coat, shaking his hair. The white-haired man walked across the apartment, to where Ryou was curled up on the battered, threadbare couch in front of the fire. The thick book was open on his lap, and he was writing furiously.

"Have a good day?" Bakura set his backpack, heavy with college textbooks, on the floor. Ryou nodded and smiled, looking back down at his book. Bakura sighed, and say down on the sofa, leaning against the torn upholstery. "Ugh… College was hell. Work was even worse. All Marik can talk about his big Valentines day surprise for Malik… It's so cheesy, but it's cute to see them happy."

'Have you ever celebrated Valentines day?' Ryou wrote on a scrap of paper. Bakura sighed, and shook his head. He snaked an arm around Ryou's shoulders, and the teenager obediently leaned his head into the mans' shoulder.

"Nah… I've… Well, it's not like I wouldn't mind it… But I've never really had a girlfriend or boyfriend, per say. I mean, I've slept with a lot of people, especially those college sluts… I had a few around before you came to stay." He fell silent at the look of revulsion on the teenager's face. "Okay, sorry. But…" Bakura sighed. "I'm not a big fan of Valentines day anyways. All the cards and chocolate and sappy fluff…" Ryou sighed, a dreamy look on his face. "What. You _like_ that shit?" The teenager nodded, smiling faintly. "Weirdo." Bakura tightened his arms around Ryou's shoulder's, feeling the thin, slender bones beneath the worn sweat shirt. He nuzzled Ryou's head tenderly, enjoying the vague aroma of strawberries that washed over him. "Mmmm… Your hair smells nice."

'Sap.' Ryou scrawled quickly on the scrap paper. Bakura growled, teasingly poking him in the side.

"Not." He muttered, resting his chin on Ryou's head. The teenagers' laugh was silent, but Bakura could feel his slim chest rise and fall as he giggled. "Hey… We should have a shower." The yami wrinkled his nose. "It's been almost a week." Ryou nodded, wrinkling his nose. Hot water was a luxury, not a necessity in this household, barely enough for one shower a week and for the dishes, so Bakura and Ryou had to share the wash. "Okay." Bakura sighed as he stood up. Ryou closed the thick book, and set it down tenderly on the couch cushion. It was Bakura's idea for Ryou to start writing down all of his memoirs. Not only was Bakura interested in the story of Ryou's life, but he was sure that it would be worth a lot of money. Sure, there were countless homeless people littering the streets, especially in the summer and spring. According to the statistics, the homeless population lowered about twenty to forty percent in the winter. And instead of helping them, offering clothes, food, and shelter, the government simply let it happen. There were plenty of starving, ill people living on the streets. A few dying was no skin off their nose.

Ryou would have died, Bakura was sure, if he had never taken Ryou home with him. He still remembered how sick Ryou was at Christmastime, constantly weak and tired. It was mid-January before he could even leave the house. Bakura accepted the bony hand that was extended to him, staring into wide chocolate eyes.

Of course, it didn't help that Bakura was starting to have… Thoughts about the young teenager. He couldn't help it! He was totally amazed by his beauty and sweet kindness. The man had been hiding his desires from Ryou, however, knowing how it was deemed 'wrong.' Not only was homosexuality strongly looked down on in his society, but with Ryou being fifteen, and Bakura approaching twenty-two… To say there was an age difference would be putting it mildly.

Bakura blinked as slender, bony fingers touched the side of his face. The man looked down to stare at Ryou, who cocked his head to one side in confusion.

"I'm okay." Bakura whispered gently. He drew Ryou into a momentary embrace, softly kissing the top of his fluffy white head. "Never mind me."

* * *

"Hey, Ryou, move over, I need to get my hair…" The whitenette stepped aside obediently, shivering slightly as he left the comforting stream of hot water. "Thanks." Bakura turned around, ducking his head under the water and letting it soak his wild mane of silver tangles. "Mmm, that feels better." He sighed, running his hands through the wet hair. And it did. 

For about three seconds.

Bakura jumped, and with a shout, he leaped out of the shower as fast as he would, swearing. Ryou's eyes were wide, and it wasn't until he stepped under the shower that he realized what the man was yelling about. Ryou gasped, pressing himself against the grimy wall of the shower, as far away from the stream of icy water as he could.

"W-We were only in there for fifteen minutes..." Bakura took another step back, and his back hit the warped wooden door of the apartment. Ryou watched, his vision hampered slightly by the stream of water. He could see Bakura however, turn around and punch the door angrily. The man couldn't feel the pain, however. He just took a step back, and slumped his shoulders uselessly.

_I failed._ Bakura felt sick. _What was it that I promised him? That I was going to feed him lots and lots... And I haven't. Even that stupid Christmas hamper had to be stretched to the max. Look at him. He's still as skinny as a rake. Okay, so he's not as bad as he used to be, but he still looks underfed. And he goes hungry. He does and I know it. And look at us. We can't even take a fucking shower. The hot water must be leaking somewhere... But I can't get into the walls and look at it, and we can't afford a plumber. I can't do this. I can't. But I can't give up... Ryou... I can't ever let him go back into those streets. But I don't know how long I can keep feeding and clothing the both of us._

The man jumped when he felt a slim hand resting on his shoulder. Bakura turned around to find Ryou standing opposite him, his eyes wide and confused. The male felt his heart wrench when he saw Ryou, and closed his eyes. _I can't give up on him... Even if I can't look after myself._

"I'm okay." Bakura whispered. He leaned forward, and shut off the shower water. Ryou simply stared at Bakura, his bony form shivering. "Here…" Bakura draped the only bathrobe around the teenagers' shoulders, before donning a towel. "Sorry." He apologized. "This… This all just gets me down, you know?" Ryou nodded in slight understanding. "I promised you a better life, and this is what I give you. A shitty shoebox of an apartment without even any hot water…" Ryou shook his head, tightening the thin bathrobe around himself. "Yes, Ryou!" Bakura started yelling. "Look at yourself! I-I can't even feed you…" His shoulders slumped, and he held his hands over his face. "Things were always a struggle, and I was hanging onto this place by a thread. And then you come along, and everything doubles…" Bakura let out a long sigh, and lifted his head slightly. His heart sank when he saw Ryou, who was near tears. "O-Oh… Ryou, that sounded wrong…"

'Should I leave?' Ryou wrote the words in the steam of the bathroom mirror. Bakura's mouth fell open, and panic rose in his throat.

"No!" He yelped. "No! No… Never, Ryou, never ever." The whitenette gasped as Bakura wrapped his arms around Ryou in a tight, loving embrace. "I don't want you to leave, you idiot, not at all!" He buried his nose in Ryou's hair, which smelled strongly of strawberries once again. The whitenette used a more expensive brand of shampoo on his hair, and although money was tight, Bakura was happy to pay a couple more dollars on shampoo so Ryou's hair could be so soft, and sweet-smelling. It was the aroma he fell asleep to at night. "I was just saying. Ryou… I care about you. A lot. If I didn't, I would have left you to die, wouldn't I?" He gently lifted his head, staring into those wide brown chocolate eyes. "There's thousands of homeless people on the streets, Ryou. And nobody cares. But I did, I always did. You know that I'd been watching you for weeks, and part of me always wanted to take you home with me…" He nuzzled Ryou's head. The whitenette smiled beneath him, his eyes closed. "I took you into my home because I care about you, Ryou. Because it was breaking my heart to see you cold and starving and alone… I'm trying my hardest, Ryou. I-I really am."

Ryou bit his lip as he lifted his head, staring into Bakura's wine-coloured eyes. He took a step back, and lifted his hand. Bakura stared as Ryou started to write on the mirror, keeping his writing as small as possible (The mirror was cracked, and not all that big). 'I know you are. And you're doing great.' Bakura broke into a small smile, wrapping his arms around Ryou's shoulders.

"Thanks, Ryou." He whispered somewhat thickly. "Thank you, Ryou. You don't know how special you are to me." Ryou sighed, and smiled weakly. Bakura frowned, noticing how badly Ryou was shivering. "Shit. We better get in front of the heater."

* * *

"Ugh." Bakura sighed as he rolled over. The blankets were pulled up to his shoulders, but he was still cold. The man looked over at Ryou, who's eyes were surprisingly open. "Ryou?" The teenager blinked, and turned his head to face the older whitenette. "You awake?" He nodded, his brown eyes bleary and unfocused. "Cold?" Ryou nodded again, his teeth chattering. "Ohh… I'm sorry." Bakura pulled the blankets up higher around the pair of them, cuddling Ryou close. "Better?" Ryou inclined his head slightly in a nod, nuzzling Bakura's collarbone. "Mmm…" Bakura sighed, curling his legs around Ryou. 

"You know… I'm really happy about you." Bakura sighed. "I can't ever say that enough, it feels like. Life was like… A struggle to live. Before I got the part-time job at the factory, I was really, really poor." The man nuzzled Ryou's hair. "I lived in a place even worse than this one. And my things…" Bakura let out a long breath, that was shaking. "When I was little, my family was well-off. I went to a good school and all that, and we had some really nice stuff. When they died, I had to sell a lot of it to get by… furniture, mostly, and some of Mum's jewelry… I sold it to pawn shops, mainly. I felt like shit, but I had to if I wanted to keep a roof over my head. There was… There was this one thing I swore I was never gonna sell. My Mum… She had this nice jewelry box. It was ivory, inlaid with gold, really really pretty. It had red velvet lining, and this little ballerina figure in a tutu, and it played Greensleeves…" Bakura smiled in remembrance. "I tried so hard not to sell it, I really did." The man's smile fell. "But… One day, I came home with an eviction notice pinned to my door. I had nothing else to sell, and my pay wasn't going to cover it…" Ryou lifted his head, staring into wine coloured eyes that were glistening with tears.

"That was almost five years ago." Bakura murmured gently. "I… I tried saving up enough money to buy it back, but it was too much… I couldn't buy it back… It was gone a few months later, anyway." The man stared past Ryou and out the window. "I feel so guilty… It's like I've completely forgotten about them. I have lots of pictures on the mantelpiece, but that's not the same…" Bakura actually sniffed, holding back tears. "Dad was always so proud of our line… He used to boast about being able to trace it back to the Dark Ages. It's so sad… I'm the very last one in a very long line, and look at what I am. Look at what I've become. Dad would be so angry at me, I'm sure."

Ryou placed a hand on the side of Bakura's face, raising his head slightly to look at the white-haired man. Ryou shook his head gently, biting on his lower lip.

"Ryou… I am. I'm a failure. Look at me. I can't provide for either of us…" Ryou shook his head again, and propped himself up on his elbows. He reached across the bed, and grabbed the chunky notepad, and a pen.

'Bakura… You're in college. You're studying to become a psychologist. You're going to get a good job and earn lots of money for us.' Bakura smiled gently.

"Yeah… I guess you're right." He sighed. "And you're working hard, too. I keep reading that book you're writing in, and it makes me cry. When it's done, we're gonna type it up, and Malik swears he's gonna give it to his boss." (Malik was a secretary in a publishing company.) "People have to know. They don't wanna look at what's staring in the face."

'I can't blame them.' Ryou wrote. 'What can they do to help?' Bakura sighed, and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess. It just pisses me off. I hate this place we live in. I can't wait until we can pull ourselves out." Ryou smiled, and pushed the pad and pen away. He buried his head in Bakura's shoulder, closing his eyes. "Night Ryou." Bakura sighed, wrapping his arms around the teenager. Both of the whitenette's relaxed into the mattress, sleeping on a bed that made them feel as though they were suspended in a cradle over the city.

* * *

Ryou shivered, drawing the thin, ragged coat tighter around his skinny frame. It wasn't an especially cold day, per say, but the freezing, whistling wind chilled Ryou to the bone. It wasn't often that the whitenette plucked up enough courage to go outside, but today, he had to. 

The whitenette slid a hand into the pocket of the jacket, touching the few crumpled notes and cold, tarnished coins inside. It was mid-afternoon, but Ryou had spent the morning busking at one of the plazas, trying to earn as much money as he could. It was a busy day, with sweethearts buying each other gifts, and everyone seemed to be in a happier mood. Ryou hid a small smile. Thirty-two dollars and fifteen cents in three hours was one of the best wages he'd ever made.

Ryou blinked, and peered through the open door and into the junk store. It was mainly a place of cracked china and dull, unpolished brass. The whitenette shrugged, and walked into the store. It was a tiny, stuffy place, filled with the musty smell of old books. The teenager rubbed at his nose, suppressing a sneeze. He felt the eyes of the woman on him, and bit his lip hard. His chocolate brown eyes scanned the few shelves of items, and his heart dared to lift a little. He had been searching the junk shops around town for well over an hour, and had entered more than a dozen shops.

There it was.

Ryou froze, staring at the white enamel box, the edges painted gold. Ryou could tell it was not real ivory and gold -If it was, then it wouldn't be in a shop like this- but it looked almost just like the real thing. The teenager lifted the lid with his slim bony fingers, his breath hitching at the sight of the faded red velvet. He groped around the back of the tiny box, until he found the key. After a few short twists, the sweet, almost eerie sound of 'Greensleeves' filled his ears, and the tiny ballerina started turning.

Ryou's smile was as wide as the sky.

* * *

"There you are!" Bakura stood up as soon as Ryou entered the tiny apartment. The teenager froze, clutching the gift-wrapped package closed to his chest. "Where the fuck were you, Ryou?" If he had a voice, the whitenette would have squeaked as Bakura strode across the studio, grabbing Ryou's shoulders. "Why didn't you leave a note or anything!" He was shaken roughly, feeling as though his brain was beating against his skull. Bakura released his hold on the boy, who stepped back, shaking his head. He clutched the package closer to himself, his eyes closed. "I was worried sick." Bakura's voice broke, and he slumped his shoulders. "I-I'm so sorry…" 

Ryou blinked as he felt Bakura's hand on the side of his face. He stared up into those crimson eyes, his chin trembling. Bakura let out a long, long sighed, closing his eyes for a long moment.

"What have you got there?" Bakura asked softly, trailing his hand down to the box. It was wrapped in red paper, and tied with a gold ribbon. A tiny red-and-gold card was pinned to the front. Ryou smiled gently, and released one of his hands, taking Bakura's wrist. The man was confused, but obeyed as he was led across the room, and sat down on the couch.

"What is it?" Bakura repeated, still confused. Ryou licked his lips nervously, and held out the box in his slim, bony fingers. "Oh Christ…" Bakura took the box, and stared at the tiny card. He folded it open, reading the short message inside. "To my Valentine… Oh, _Ryou_." Bakura gasped, his heart swelling almost painfully. Ryou was smiling widely, soundlessly encouraging the yami to open it. Bakura's fingers shook as he tore open the red paper, and lifted the object out of the box.

"Oh God." Bakura froze, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. "Oh _God_…" Tears swam in Bakura's eyes as he held the music box in his hands. "Oh God…" He repeated again, his breath shaking in his throat. Ryou could only watch, but he couldn't stop the broad smile across his face. It faded, however, when Bakura burst into tears.

Ryou's eyes widened, and the box slid from Ryou's fingers. The whitenette gasped, and caught the small trinket, setting it down gently on the coffee table. He placed a hand on the side of Bakura's face, staring into his face as he cried. The man buried his head into Ryou's shoulders, his hands shaking.

"Th-Thank you…" He mumbled a long time later as he lifted his head a little. "T-Thank you… So much Ryou." Bakura stared into wide brown eyes, which were to expressive and warm and loving…

He kissed him.

Bakura couldn't help it. He leaned his head in, just a little, and closed the gap between their lips. Ryou's eyes widened, and every part of his body went rigid as Bakura rested his lips on the teens', closing his eyes. Ryou stared at the closed eyelids, red and swollen from crying. With a low sigh, the teenager's eyes lowered shut in return, and he started to kiss Bakura back. The man didn't dare to deepen the kiss any more, for fear Ryou would pull away, so Bakura relaxed, trailing his hands down to Ryou's hips.

"I'm sorry!" Bakura gasped as he pulled away. His was staring at Ryou, who's eyes were lowered slightly, frozen in shock. "Ryou…" The teenager eventually lifted his head, staring into wine-coloured orbs.

It just felt so _right_ to kiss Bakura. Ryou didn't even have to think about it, as he locked lips with the man once again. Bakura's eyes bugged out of his head as Ryou kissed him chastely, before pulling away a few moments later, his cheeks stained crimson.

"Ryou." Bakura gasped, holding a hand over his mouth. "Y-You… You…" Bakura was babbling, and he knew it, but he didn't know what to do. "You… feel that way?" Ryou didn't even have to hesitate, and he nodded his head quickly daring to smile. "Me?" Ryou nodded again, the smile still on his face. "Oh… Shit." Bakura muttered. "But…" The man just didn't understand it. He sighed, and looked down at Ryou, who was staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Bakura pressed his lips together, and wrapped his arms around Ryou's shoulders, gently coaxing the younger one to lean into his chest. Ryou obeyed, staring out from his vantage point at the old music box.

"Thank you." Bakura whispered, clinging tightly to the teenager. "Thank you, Ryou." He whispered again, clutching Ryou as tightly to his shaking frame as he could. Ryou relaxed into the embrace, his eyes fluttering shut just a little. He felt so warm, and _safe_, in Bakura's arms…

The man still couldn't believe what Ryou had done for him. He stared at the little music box in pure shock, his heart aching. Ryou had earned enough money to buy him that music box, and almost exact replica of his old family heirloom. Save his parents, no one had ever done something so nice for him before. Strange feelings rose in Bakura's chest, and he almost felt as though he wouldn't cope.

"You're the closest I've got to family, Ryou." Bakura whispered as he gently lay down on the couch. Ryou was pulled down with him, and brought onto his torso. The teenager snuggled into Bakura's chest, burying his nose in the man's collarbone. "I… I care about you so bloody much." Bakura felt fresg tears form in his eyes, to his eternal shame. "I… I can't put these dealings into any words. At first, it was just me caring about you lots and lots, but when you started putting on a bit of weight, and stayed clean, I saw how pretty you were. And then when you got a little stronger, and showed me how kind and generous you are…" Bakura trailed off, combing his fingers through long dark hair. "I…" The man sighed. "Happy Valentines day, Ryou." The whitenette teenager smiled, and lifted his head, just a little. Bakura stared into his heavenly face, and watched those perfect pink lips mouth three simple words. There was no sound, but Bakura didn't need it He knew what Ryou was saying.

'Happy Valentines Day.'

* * *

Ugh. Fluff! -drownsinfluff-

I'm horribly tired... I'm going to bed...

R&R!


End file.
